


Just Rehearsing For The Perfect Day

by GrangeLady



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (minor) - Freeform, Awkward Conversations, Christmas Fluff, Exhibitionism, F/M, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Safe Sane and Consensual, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism, power perversion potential
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangeLady/pseuds/GrangeLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy overhears Matt giving a lucky lady the night of her life, Matt overhears (smells, senses) Foggy being into it, and it spawns an exhibitionist/voyeur fantasy that they take way too long to address. </p><p>College era into canon era into future fic. Foggy/Marci is extremely minor in this, so please don't seek your major fix of it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Rehearsing For The Perfect Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marmolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/gifts).



'The hardest thing about sharing a room is often the negotiation for privacy', the helpful booklet he'd been given at the start of the semester claimed. Foggy was finding that it was a bit more complicated than that. All the 'reasonable compromise' and 'scheduling in advance' and 'mature communication' that had already been so optimistically ticked off on the list of tips couldn't help solve his problem.  
Because he didn't want privacy. 

Or, more accurately, he didn't want his roommate to have privacy. 

It made guilt squirm in his guts, but all week he had been thinking about Saturday night. Matt had picked someone up at the coffee shop, or a bar or a study group or somewhere, and texted him about it at about 4pm. Nothing out of the ordinary. Foggy went to some movie that some drama majors were screening (the dog died and he vowed, again, never to watch another student film). 

 The evening's real interest had started when he got home. He traipsed up the stairs and along the corridor, full of bitterness, composing his rant for Matt because it had been a spaniel and they didn't need to have killed it, why would a storyteller do that, Matt we need to go to the pound and pet some dogs, and his hand was on the doorknob when he heard it. 

In most circumstances, hearing a groan from behind a locked door is a warning sign. 

"Call an ambulance or back off," a groan from behind a locked door says. This wasn't an ambulance situation. Or at least, this probably wasn't an ambulance situation, because he was hardly an expert on what his roommate sounded like in the middle of, say, a heart attack or a seizure or bleeding out from a head wound. He flattered himself that he knew one or two things about how a person sounds when they're having amazing sex, though, and he was pretty sure he was hearing Matt having some amazing sex. 

"Yeah," came a female voice. He jerked back from the doorknob. The image of Matt half-naked and flushed with pleasure, waiting for... 

The image burst and he adjusted himself in his pants as he turned quickly away. Marci's place, but he would need to stop off at the bathroom first. Dammit, Matt.  
*****  
Day three of Christmas with the Nelsons was as hectic as days one and two had been. Seven cousins under the age of ten had decided that Matt had to be inducted into the family traditions which so far included baking cookies, singing songs (Cheri insisted that the words were 'til morning is night' and who was Matt to argue?), making paper chains, and way more running around on a sugar high than Matt had been prepared for. At least on days one and two he had had Foggy to fall back on. Today was the 21st, though, and according to Olivia that meant that the older boys had to go and find the heirloom Christmas decorations and then fight over who got which splintering rocking horse to put on their house's tree. 

It had been 4pm when Anna had taken mercy on him, demanding that he come over to where she and an Aunt Tess were having a lively argument about whose turn it was to make the stuffing and then making a bit of a show of feeling his forehead and declaring that he needed an early night. Something coming on, maybe a virus, no more wandering up and down the street waiting for snow to come. She had assured Marcus, who was eight and tended to fret, that Matt would be well enough for Christmas day but only if he had some quiet. Matt had been ready to kiss her. 

So here he was, three hours later in Foggy's room and on the airbed despite Foggy's protests. Three hours had been spent shooing away cousins - Marcus and Kiera had brought him some hot orange juice, which had been nice for the first two glasses, Cheri and Gareth and Janey hadn't believed Matt was sick and had taken up his bed while he was brushing his teeth, and Lauren had been trying to diagnose him on WebMD. 

Now, alone for the first time in three days, he lay on his back and waited for Foggy. His thoughts kept straying to that night he'd spent with Sharon from his politics class. She was gorgeous, of course, a voice like hot chocolate and a fondness for small mammals and as it turned out, very soft skin on her stomach in particular. But it wasn't Sharon's softness or the taste of her arousal lingering on his tongue for most of the next day because toothpaste doesn't have anything on the tastes of the human body... It wasn't Sharon that his mind kept running over at all. 

The shivery 'tak' of Foggy's skin sticking to the doorknob had spurred a moment of madness, driven Matt to scoop low over Sharon's body and bury his face between her legs. 

The sudden movement and the shift into a higher gear than their slow-stroking-over-underpants hadn't been unwelcome at all, if Sharon's groan and her hands in Matt's hair had been anything to judge by. He hadn't needed the encouragement from her, and here's the difficult part, because beyond the warm cage of her grasping legs and the torrent of her blood flooding into her lips like every blood cell wanted Matt to kiss it individually, beyond the tickling rasp of her curls on his chin and lips and tongue, he was straining to hear Foggy. If Sharon had asked him to do something in particular, he probably wouldn't have noticed. 

It wasn't the thought of Sharon pulling him up so they were face to face again and jacking him off without even removing his underpants that had him trying to will away an erection before one of the kids burst in again. 

It was the knowledge that he had been at least partially responsible for the huff of air that Foggy had released as he turned away and almost ran to the bathroom. And the concentration of heat between his legs, for that matter. 

This thought had him turning on his side to avoid pitching a tent quite so visibly, facing Foggy's bed and the door. He hadn't been able to keep tracking him into the bathroom (super senses and shared bathrooms are not a good mix) and it was that regret that had him pulling off his pyjama top and baring his apparently impressive shoulders to anyone further into the room than standing at the doorway.

Foggy wouldn't be long, he was sure.  
*****  
The thing is, it had become a lot easier to be around each other lately. The thing is, since Foggy found out about Daredevil (and once they had got through six weeks of tension that Matt would trade in a heartbeat for six weeks at the hands of any of Fisk's personnel), it had felt like a lot of things had been coming unstuck in their friendship's pipes and everything was moving more easily. The thing is, when Matt told Foggy that he'd been privy to most of the boners that Foggy'd had in the last decade, Foggy didn't seem upset at all. 

"I kinda knew." He was sitting next to Matt on Matt's new couch, three beers into the night and starting to let his head loll back a little. If the pulse he was inadvertently baring was a little faster than normal, well, it could mean a lot of things. 

"Oh. Good?" Matt may have built this up to be a bigger problem than it is. He may have spent a week agonising over and forcing it from his mind by turns, only to have it practically dismissed. "How did you know?" 

Foggy raised his head. "You can hear heartbeats and smell whether somebody washed their hands for long enough. I'm not saying that my dick is the centre of the universe and you're documenting its movements or anything, but I know it must make some kind of noise when it's waking up. Probably a smell too, but..." Foggy probably scrunched up his face. 

"It's a good smell." Shit. "As dick smells go." What? "It..." There was no way this was going to get better and Matt had never been more grateful to be cut off by a burst of laughter. 

"You need to work on your pickup lines, man. Is this really the best that the infamous Murdock charm can do?"  
Three beers into the night and immediately after telling Foggy that his dick smelled good was probably a bad time for this, but fuck it. That was an opening if he'd ever heard one. Matt leaned in and, suddenly unsure, pecked a kiss onto the corner of Foggy's smile. The world stopped. 

Foggy turned his head. "Not quite what I pictured for our first kiss, but I'll take it." 

That night became a memorable one (Matt finally got to taste what he'd been smelling for years, press his ear to Foggy's inner thigh while he was licking at Foggy's balls and hear the torrent of his femoral artery up close and it was a rush like he'd never experienced), and neither mentioned the awkwardness that preceded the best sex of their lives.  
*****  
Their third anniversary passed with small fanfare. A dinner at the Italian place they liked, a present of new pyjamas for Foggy and a new set of headphones for Matt, and a conversation over a slow breakfast the following morning. 

It was a Saturday, so Foggy had enough time to broach the subject with appropriate sensitivity. The sight of Matt sitting down with a plate of toast and a sleepy smile just for him still shorted out his higher functions, even now. 

"Do you want to have sex with somebody else?" 

The smile slid off Matt's face like water off a window. He set his toast down. 

"Are you saying we should see other people?" 

"No!" Something in his high-pitched exclamation or his demeanour must be convincing enough because Matt looked confused instead of stoic. "I mean, you know when we were in college and you would hook up with all those people?" 

Matt had relaxed almost back to his original state. "Foggy." He reached across their table to pick up Foggy's hand in both of his and stroked the back of it with one thumb. "I love you. You're smart, and funny, and gorgeous, and kind, and you're fantastic in bed. Why would I want anyone else?" He, oh GOD, he actually lifted Foggy's hand and kissed it. What a dork. 

"I love you too, Murdock, but this isn't about my self-esteem. I'm trying to," just say it, Nelson, he'll start worrying again, "propose a threesome. Kind of an unconventional threesome." 

To Matt's credit, he sat without laughing through Foggy's red-faced description of how often he thought about those times when he wasn't allowed to hear Matt moaning but did anyway. He didn't say even drop Foggy's hand. 

By the time it became clear that Foggy had stammered out his last mortifying sentence ("I know it's stupid when I have all of you now, but there was something so... naughty about it, you know, and if you were up for it I would really like to... roleplay it, maybe?") Matt was smiling. 

"Yeah." His voice lowered, like they were sharing secrets. "I liked that too. You know I could tell," and he was lifting Foggy's hand above the plate of very cold toast, pressing his mouth to the knuckles to murmur into them, and why the hell was every weird thing he did so hot, "every time you got hard listening to me. I loved it. Felt like a shit sometimes," a kiss to the base of Foggy's ring finger, "like I was taking advantage," he turned his hand to rub the palm against his stubble, "but I loved it. Yeah." 

They end up jerking each other off right there at the breakfast table, too worked up to make it last or do anything fancier.  
*****  
 They spend weeks trying to think of someone suitable, even contemplate going to a club or advertising online ("Our sex life is not a set of used lawn chairs, Foggy"), but in the end the best option is the most obvious one. 

They're at Josie's, of course. Karen is unwinding for maybe the first time since they met her - Matt had mumbled something about her finally getting comfortable with them when Foggy brought it up, but then rolled further into Foggy's side and fell back asleep - and Matt has gone up to the bar. 

This is it. 

"So Karen, would you like to join us next Friday night?"  

**Author's Note:**

> I know I didn't quite work in the actual 'Foggy jacks off' portion of the prompt, but I kept trying to write the remote threesome and it ended up being pretty objectifying and distancing for Karen. I could write it with an OC and post it as a bonus chapter or sequel if the prompter would like, but the main story kept taking me to Karen and it made me super uncomfortable having her solely as a medium for the guys to get off. Please comment with your opinion, marmolita!


End file.
